


Smile For Me, Baby

by kiafeles



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dentist AU, Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 01:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiafeles/pseuds/kiafeles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps he chose grape because subconsciously he wants to punish himself for such awful thoughts, and really, he can’t change his mind now, because that would just draw more attention to <em>how awful he is at talking to his dentist.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile For Me, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Kuroo is so hard to write and yet....here we are.  
> Thanks to my sis for the au idea > : D

 

Daichi is feeling nervous.

 

He’s never liked the dentist, nor the check-ups, nor the poking and prodding and cleaning and flossing that make his mouth sore for the next few hours, or the disgusting fluoride that makes his mouth taste sickly sweet, or the sound of a drill as it comes down upon him.

 

He makes sure he has his regular visits, and makes sure to brush and floss at least semi-regularly, so his teeth aren’t awful, but he knows the trips help, as awful as they feel.

 

He’s visiting a new dentist today, anyway, so it might be a better experience than his last ones. He doesn’t know much about the place apart from the recommendation from a friend, but he hopes he’ll come away without the grievances that typically plague him.

 

He steps into the establishment and makes his way over to the receptionist, a bit jittery with nerves. The receptionist himself looks bored, his two-toned hair tied back in a ponytail, and he stares up at Daichi with a somewhat blank, expectant expression.

 

“Uh…” Daichi starts when it doesn’t seem like he’ll get the expected greeting. He looks down a bit and notices that the receptionist holds a small game system in one hand. Clearing his throat, he begins. “I’m Sawamura Daichi. I have an appointment.”

 

The receptionist sets his game device down gently on the desk in front of him and cracks a couple fingers before typing rapidly on his computer. He inquires a bit about Daichi’s insurance in short, clipped sentences, and Daichi haltingly replies back with the necessary information. When the receptionist seems finished, he pauses, then meets Daichi’s eyes once more and tips his head to the side. 

 

“Wait over there. You’ll be called when he’s ready.”

 

Daichi murmurs a thanks and then goes to the waiting room to sit. He fiddles a bit with his thumbs in his boredom, then examines the room. On a bookshelf against the wall is an assortment of novels, along with some odd-looking cat bobbleheads. He sees a few posters above them with some awful puns about teeth, but what really catches his attention is a group photo sitting on top of the bookshelf. Daichi recognizes the receptionist in the photograph, with hair shorter and better dyed. A taller man stands beside him, his arm wrapped around the receptionist’s shoulders like an old friend.

 

_Or a brother? Lover?_ Daichi squints, noticing a more unfamiliar faces in other photographs posted around the room. It gives the office a nice homey touch, even if he doesn’t know anyone in the photographs.

 

His thoughts are interrupted as a short man in scrubs approaches him.

 

“Sawamura-san?”

 

“Yes?” He jumps up, then follows the gesture the other man gives him. He arrives in a small room, where he sits upon the chair, staring at the other man expectantly. 

 

“We’re a bit short-staffed today, so Dr. Kuroo will be the one taking care of you. He’ll be here in a moment.”

 

Daichi murmurs a small thanks, leaning back in the long chair as he waits. It doesn’t take long for him to hear the sound of the door reopening behind him.

 

“Sawamura Daichi-san?” he hears, before turning to regard his doctor.

 

Two thoughts follow.

 

One, the man is obviously the one who was in that photograph with the receptionist. The likeness is exact, although in much clearer and much more three dimensional proportions.

 

Thought number two consists of a mix of dread of and embarrassment, covered by a feeling that he doesn’t want to name.

 

Because, hell, _that’s his dentist_. A practical god with messy black hair, angular features, black-rimmed glasses, and an athletic build. 

 

“Uh,” he splutters eloquently, “yes.”

 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Kuroo.” The man gives a small bow before sitting in his own chair, scooting up to a computer on the counter next to Daichi’s chair. Daichi gapes a bit, and the doctor raises an eyebrow.

 

“You seem eager to get started,” he chuckles, reaching to organize his equipment.

 

Daichi snaps his mouth shut and nods vigorously, unsure of how else to respond. Why can he suddenly not talk? 

 

Kuroo takes his silence in stride, reaching over for a clipboard with one hand as he types on the computer with his other. Daichi thinks the man might be ambidextrous with how he moves, another trait that makes his heart pang with an unfamiliar warmth.

 

“Do you floss?”

 

“Uh,” Daichi struggles to speak at normal volume. It’s harder than he’s willing to believe. “Yeah...once or twice a week.”

 

“Let’s try to make that every day,” Kuroo winks, jotting down some notes on a clipboard. Daichi tries not to pass out right then and there at the gesture, because _damn_.

 

“And brushing?”

 

“Every day,” Daichi rushes. “Twice, morning and night. I brush, I mean. I do it after meals.”

 

“Good, good.” Kuroo jots a few more notes before clicking on something onscreen, then faces Daichi once more. He scoots his chair over (not very gracefully, Daichi notes, but adorable all the same) and then hovers over Daichi, fiddling with his equipment a bit before giving Daichi a pair of well worn sunglasses. Daichi dutifully puts them on, and he feels relief when Kuroo’s radiance isn’t blocked like that of the light above him.

 

_Geez_ , Daichi thinks, horrified at his own thoughts. _Maybe this wasn’t the best place to switch to after all_.

 

Kuroo instructs him to open his mouth, then begins poking and prodding.

 

“So, tell me about yourself.”

 

Daichi’s eyes widen comically. What can he say to that? He wouldn’t want to sound too interested in Kuroo’s reactions, because then he would just come across as weird. And he doesn’t want to go on and on about his life, because then he would just sound obnoxious. Maybe he could talk about his cat? He did see the cat bobbleheads in the waiting room, so maybe that would be a good start to the —

 

“You still in there?” Kuroo says, and Daichi finally comes to. The doctor has stopped flossing his teeth, the string tugged taut between two fingers as he looks down upon Daichi with a mix of amusement and question. Daichi’s brain resets again, Kuroo rolls his eyes and reaches back down to go for Daichi’s bottom teeth, and Daichi finally tells himself to say something, _anything_.

 

“Warghhff.”

 

Right, Daichi realizes too late. He’s fallen for the dentist’s trap: speaking with a hand shoved down his throat. 

 

He feels his face color as he struggles to come up with something to cover himself once Kuroo finishes flossing, and when the opportunity presents itself, he speaks.

 

“Sorry, I, uh, I have a cat.”

 

_Perfect, Daichi. Absolutely perfect_.

 

Suga would be laughing up a storm if he were here, but Daichi feels that his own embarrassment doesn’t need to be compounded by another witness.

 

Speaking of said witness, Kuroo has stopped to look at Daichi with even more bewilderment, and Daichi scrambles to cover for himself while he still has full control of his oral faculties.

 

“Because I saw your bobbleheads. And cat stuff. In the other room. By those pictures.”

 

“Oh?” Kuroo says neutrally, as he prepares to go in once more. “Yes, those were a gift from my friend. I’m actually allergic to cats, so that’s about the realest cat I can own, I’m afraid.”

 

Allergic? Well that’s a strike in Daichi’s book. If he’s allergic to cats, then how could he ever come over to Daichi’s house? Maybe he could give Captain Whiskers to Suga when Kuroo comes over and save him from having to interact with the aggressive furball.

 

When, not if.

 

Daichi wants to physically slap himself over how ludicrous his thoughts have become. He hardly knows the man. Plus, he’s his doctor, _and_  he’s making a fool of himself. In what world would such odds constitute a chance?

 

Plus, he thinks, remembering the picture frames, he might already be taken.

 

“Wow, you’re drooling a lot,” Kuroo says, his voice lilted and mischievous. “Maybe we should check that out. Does that happen often?”

 

Daichi’s eyes widen as he furiously denies the offer around a suction tube, and Kuroo laughs as he returns to his equipment, joke behind him.

 

“What flavor would you like?” Kuroo once more breaks Daichi from his self-inflicted mental boxing session, and Daichi swallows, staring at the small containers lined out on the counter.

 

“Grape,” he spits out.

 

Why, why, _why_.

 

Daichi hates grape.

 

Perhaps he chose grape because subconsciously he wants to punish himself for such awful thoughts, and really, he can’t change his mind now, because that would just draw more attention to _how awful he is at talking to his dentist_.

 

As Kuroo readies his instruments once more, Daichi prepares himself for the sweet kiss of grapey death.

 

“Say ahhh,” Kuroo murmurs, urging Daichi to open wider.

 

Daichi does as instructed, wincing as the tool vibrates on his teeth, spreading the flavor over his mouth like an unwanted, fruity visitor. He tries to school his expression into something salvageable, but he probably only comes off looking like a constipated seal.

 

“Is something wrong?” Kuroo says, pulling back. “Does it hurt somewhere?”

 

“Nah,” Daichi gasps, and oh geez, talking just makes it taste _worse_. Nevertheless, he tries not to swallow, gargling as he continues. “I’m fine.”

 

Kuroo purses his lips comically, staring at Daichi with a cool, albeit questioning, air. He’s so smooth, Daichi thinks, in a moment of weakness.

 

“If you say so.” His doctor shrugs, going back in, and Daichi focuses on staving off the taste of the obnoxiously purple gunk by comparing his current dental experience with past ones. 

 

Despite his current predicament, Dr. Kuroo has been quite amiable. He continues to chatter aimlessly at Daichi, as if he has figured out that Daichi’s responses won’t add anything intelligent to the conversation. When Daichi appears to have calmed down, however, the doctor begins to periodically stop and ask Daichi questions about his habits, his dental routine, and his health. It becomes very personal at times, but in a way that makes Daichi realize that, as roundabout as the man is, he truly does care about his patients. The treatment is miles above anything he’s had before, and that’s not even including the fact that he has a major crush on the man giving said treatment.

 

“Any jaw problems?” Kuroo asks, fingers on either side of Daichi’s mouth as he asks for Daichi to open and close his mouth in succession.

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

“Good to hear. But if you feel anything odd going on, with anything, then just give us a call. Kenma will be sure to pick up.” He pulls his gloves off as he talks, gesturing openly with hands that Daichi now realizes are as eye-catching as the rest of him. “He once got a coworker of mine in at six in the morning to help this kid who couldn’t close his jaw because he’d stuck a pencil up into his braces. So if you need anything, at all, give us a call.”

 

“Kenma?” Daichi pinpoints the name within the absurd story, and curses himself for his odd focus on the doctor’s information.

 

“Oh, he works at the front desk.” Kuroo waves a hand, smiling openly. Daichi blinks, because the smile is so unlike what he has seen before. It’s somehow more genuine, more unobstructed than the smirks and polite gestures he has had the opportunity to see so far.

 

“Oh. Yes. I saw him in a few of your pictures.” Despite his (misguided) disappointment, at least he isn’t talking anymore like Kuroo has accidentally given him a shot of novocain straight to the tongue.

 

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Kuroo explains, jotting down a few more notes on Daichi’s informational sheet. “He seems a bit unapproachable, but he’s not a bad guy.”

 

Friends? The word choice seems clear enough, but Daichi wouldn’t know if he doesn’t ask. He opens his mouth to say something that might clear the way for his wayward feelings, but he’s interrupted by shouting from the next room over.

 

“Is everything okay?” he asks worriedly. The shouting becomes more coherent as he listens on. Something about...flossing? He looks to Kuroo for explanation, but he’s only greeted with a bemused expression, and the doctor leans back to rest one hand on the counter, the other waving about airily. 

 

“Yes, that’s just Yaku. He gets a bit...aggressive when dealing with certain patients.”

 

The next time Daichi hears yelling, it’s clear enough to discern.

 

“I swear this is the last time I clean for you. You _never_ floss when I tell you too!”

 

The statement is accompanied by a crashing sound, and Daichi looks desperately once more at Kuroo for clarification. Kuroo in turn winces, but the sourness in his expression doesn’t last long.

 

“He probably threw the tray again. I should have given Lev up to Fukunaga for his appointment. But that’s too late.” He goes on to grumble something about broken Hippocratic Oaths and ‘the drill incident,’ but Daichi misses most of it over his own laughter. 

 

“It’s certainly lively here,” Daichi claims. And it’s true. His old dental place was drab compared to the characters and happenings that occur here. It’s refreshing, to never quite know what to expect in a place he typically knows for routine and boredom.

 

“You’ve got that right,” Kuroo agrees, setting his clipboard down with finality. “But that’s all I have for you!” He stands up and Daichi follows behind him as he’s led back to the front desk. He feels a bit disappointed at the abrupt end to their interactions, but what more could he expect? Even with Kuroo’s relationship status in question, there’s little chance for anything to grow between him and the other man. It’s too difficult a subject to broach, really.

 

“Thank you,” Daichi says finally, resolved to his fate. He bows at Kuroo and then at Kenma behind his desk again. The other man isn’t looking at him, but at Kuroo. His eyes quiver a bit over the top of his game system, illuminating his face eerily.

 

“No problem,” Kuroo says, shaking Daichi’s hand. “I hope you felt happy enough to come back soon. With no cavities again, mind you. Keep up the brushing.”

 

Daichi shakes back and smiles, but starts when he notices Kenma’s eyes narrowing beside him. The man looks like he’s dissecting Kuroo in front of him, and the notion sends chills down Daichi’s back. Daichi prepares to finally leave, but is stopped when he hears Kenma speak up.

 

“Just ask him,” he says quietly, in the same tone of voice he used going over insurance information. Unlike Daichi, who stares off confused at the statement, Kuroo seems the flustered one this time around.

 

It’s an interesting look on the taller man. One that Daichi could get used to.

 

“Kenma,” he growls as his expression turns almost sinister. 

 

“I can give you his number from our files later, if you’re too scared to do it now.”

 

“ _Kenma_ ,” he repeats, but the tone this time is lethal, and Daichi finally comes to understand.

 

Maybe he’s not so unlucky after all.

 

“Ah,” Kuroo begins, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you seeing anyone?”

 

“No,” Daichi replies, smile creeping on his face. “And I assume you’re not either.”

 

“That would be correct,” Kuroo responds. “Although I hope that changes in the near future.”

 

Daichi walks away that day with a new phone number and a story for Asahi, the friend who recommended Kuroo’s place to Daichi. He’ll be glad to know that Daichi got more than a comfortable dentist out of the visit.

 

As he walks away, his teeth still gritty and tasting of grape, Daichi finds a new reason to smile. A reason that doesn’t involve showing off his clean, shiny teeth.

 

♢

 

Months later, Daichi sits in his apartment with Kuroo to his side and Suga in front, morbidly embarrassed.

 

“And he just makes this sound! I wasn’t sure if he actually expected me to understand him or if he just didn’t realize I was still struggling to floss a molar.” Kuroo speaks between breathy laughs, rubbing at his eyes as they water with a combination of amusement and feline irritation.

 

“We’ve been over this, Kuroo,” Daichi grits out through his fingers, his hand covering the redness of his face. “I was a bit overwhelmed, okay?”

 

Suga places a hand on Daichi’s shoulder, his mouth drawn in a look of poorly conceived pity. 

 

“Oh, believe me, I know. Tetsurou, you should have heard the phone call Daichi gave me when he came home that afternoon. On and on he went about the _gorgeous_  dentist with beautiful eyes. I couldn’t even ask him about the appointment itself, he was so enamored.”

 

“Suga…” Daichi groans. He looks between Suga and Kuroo with exasperation, but he secretly enjoys the times he can hang out with his best friend and boyfriend, even when it results in him becoming the butt of every joke. Suga has simply known him for too long, and holds a mountain of embarrassing tales in that sharp head of his. Kuroo, Daichi soon found out, has a sharp tongue capable of rivaling even Suga, and the two make a dangerous duo.

 

“I’m just glad you decided to come back,” Kuroo puts an arm around Daichi, and Daichi melts into the embrace. It’s comfortable and warm, and Daichi feels glad for the contact.

 

Maybe he likes the dentist after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
